


mating season? oh no!!1!1 what ever shall i do!!1!1!!!1!!

by HallowedWren



Series: is it horny hours yet? [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Gaping, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Breeding, Knotting, M/M, Other, Oviposition, Restraints, Tentacles, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, belly bulge, geralt is a fucking slut and we love him for that, giant cock, ig geralt/monster could be seen as dubcon, is it horny hours yet?, its all consensual and v much enjoyed tho, little bit o' plot, referenced inhuman jaskier, some possessiveness, this is just 3k of smut with a love confession thrown in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedWren/pseuds/HallowedWren
Summary: Geralt flounders for a bit, arguing with himself.Just kill it.But they’re sentient. It’s not their fault they can’t find a mate.What else are you gonna do, offer up your own ass?............---this is literally just 3k of Geralt getting fucked and bred, with a little love confession thrown in as a treat
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Monster(s)
Series: is it horny hours yet? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973020
Comments: 18
Kudos: 415





	mating season? oh no!!1!1 what ever shall i do!!1!1!!!1!!

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to the Geraskier discord server for inspiring this filth  
> fuckin superb you horny little nerds

Geralt grumbles to himself. Walking along the shoreline, even his enhanced eyesight can't see far enough into the water to be useful.

He’s been contracted to find whatever creature has been killing every day for the past 10 or so days. Well, isn’t it always a monster who’s been killing? This one, Geralt wasn’t actually sure what it could be.

The victims were all found by the sea, half drenched with the salty sea water. Conscious, but all died within the day. Just seemingly stopped breathing. With absolutely no physical injuries, and no traces of any poison, Geralt had absolutely no idea what he was up against.

Not knowing always made him irritated. For once, the townspeople weren’t lying and actually told him all they knew. They didn’t know much, but still. They even allowed him to examine the bodies. Didn’t give any clues, but still.

He’d left Jaskier back at the inn specifically because of the unknown danger this mystery monster presented. And for once, Jaskier didn’t put up a fuss. Probably found someone pretty to warm his bed.

Geralt snorts at the thought but- there was a sound. He freezes, extending his awareness towards the water. The waves here are in a slightly different pattern than a few yards back. Definitely something large, then and- holy _shit_.

A huge head, one eye in the center as big as Geralt's head, pokes slightly out of the water, a couple yards beyond a drop-off. Yeah, there is nothing like this in the Bestiary that could help him.

Before he can even begin formulating an attack plan, the tip of one of certainly many tentacles rose above surface and a voice echoed in his head.

_Who?_

Is this creature intelligent? Or does it only know a little Common? Hopefully, he can reason with it.

“I am a Witcher. My name is Geralt. Are you the being responsible for the recent deaths?”

_Regretfully._

Ugh, he can feel a headache coming on. Can this monster really not communicate in more than one-word sentences?

“So that’s a yes? But you either didn’t mean to, or want to kill them?”

_Need mate. None suitable._

Ah. The villagers had mentioned the victims being near catatonic in the time before their deaths.

“Their minds weren’t compatible. And when you tried to talk to them, their minds couldn’t handle such a foreign presence.”

There were no words this time, only a feeling of affirmation.

“Can you not just skip this mating season? Or go somewhere else, find another of your own species?”

_Can’t skip, would die. Can’t leave, would die._

The creature sent along an impression, saying more in feelings and images than words, that their mate did not need to be of the same species. They only needed to be receptive to their mind and… seed? That wasn’t quite the right word, it didn’t translate well. The mate would only need to incubate the “seed” for 24 hours before releasing it back into the water.

Geralt flounders for a bit, arguing with himself.

_Just kill it._

But they’re sentient. It’s not their fault they can’t find a mate.

_What else are you gonna do, offer up your own ass?_

……

_……_

Geralt sighs, sheds his weapons and clothes, and enters the cool water. As soon as he’s knee-deep, tentacles wrap around his legs and pull him farther from shore.

_Well. Too late to back out now._

The creature is generous enough to keep at least his head and chest above water.

A strong, slimy tentacle wraps around each of his legs, another sliding down his crack and pushing slowly into him, wiggling in a way that no human tongue or finger could, and it draws high whines and moans from his mouth, his cock already plumping up.

They’re far enough away now that he can be as loud as he’d like, and a shudder runs down his spine as he does his best to push back onto the thin tentacle now thrusting deeper and deeper each time.

His skin flushes hot as the waves of pleasure wash over him. He doesn’t have the chance to get a cock in him very often. Mostly just over the winters with Eskel and Lambert.

It’s not nearly enough, and a second, then third tentacle, each about the width of Geralt’s pinkie finger, shove in next to the first, and the burn has him near sobbing in pleasure as he struggles to take even more. They’re excreting some kind of natural oil that’s slicking the way. Geralt didn’t exactly think ahead to what he would have done, if the creature weren’t kind enough to prep him first.

Seems they’re going to make it good for him, too. And boy if that thought doesn’t turn him on. He is completely at this creature’s mercy. They could do absolutely anything with him, _to_ him, and he’d have absolutely no say unless they were kind enough to listen.

Two more of the thicker limbs pull his arms behind his back and keep them there with unrelenting strength and Geralt’s cock had never been harder. Even at Kaer Morhen, he’s never been restrained so thoroughly.

Sometime, a fourth tentacle had forced its way up his ass—adding to the downright _delicious_ stretch and feeling of fullness—but Geralt whines when they all pull out, leaving him feeling empty and desperate for _anything_ to fill him again.

Before he can struggle too much, another tentacle, this one thicker and stiffer than all the others, slides steadily in to fill his surely-gaping hole.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Geralt whispers, back arching as much as he’s allowed to take as much as the creature’s cock as possible.

And _fuck_ , is it thick—and longer than any toy Geralt’s ever had.

There are small ridges along its length, and as the first one brushes against his prostate, Geralt cries out as his body trembles with pleasure as he comes _hard_. One of the smaller tentacles wraps around Geralt’s cock to stretch out his orgasm.

His ass clenches down on the huge cock, which the creature seems to appreciate very much given the increase in speed and power behind its thrusts.

When Geralt is finally crying with overstimulation, his cock is left alone in favor of circling his nipples with surprising dexterity, going so far as to pinch them at irregular intervals that cause Geralt to twitch and whimper with the pleasure-pain.

Another orgasm is pulled out of him before the cock inside him stills—gods probably about a foot deep in his ass.

All Geralt’s attention is drawn to the ripples along its cock as it pumps egg after egg into his ass, each about an inch wide.

He loses count sometime around 17.

The final egg is released, and the creature thrusts in deep a few more times, shoving the eggs in further until there’s a pleasant ache in Geralt’s lower abdomen. He knows that if his arms were free, he’d be able to feel a bulge in his stomach and _fuck_ if that doesn’t send another bolt of pleasure down his spine.

One last thrust, and the creature is assured that none of its eggs will be leaving this perfect bitch it’s found before they’re ready to spawn.

That cock slides out of him teasingly slow, thrusting back in a couple times for Geralt to feel those _wonderful_ ridges.

Then another cock that’s only a little thinner slides right in. Two tentacles squeeze his ass cheeks together, and he gets the hint to clench down on its second cock.

It thrusts faster and harder, overwhelmingly good, until it’s stuffing him with viscous cum, locks them together with a knot that stretches him even wider than the first cock. A tentacle strokes him until he's coming _again_ and _gods_ was this the best decision he’s ever made.

It keeps rocking into him, his ass milking it for as much cum as he can get. After all, it’d be a damn shame to have gone through all this and not have even fulfilled his role as—he shudders in pleasure and humiliation—breeding bitch.

Inevitably, its knot goes down and it pulls out reluctantly, but plays with his hole for a while, milking his prostate liberally until he’s coming, completely dry.

It sure does hope he’ll be back for next season. It found a good, pretty bitch, and almost doesn’t want to let him go.

Still, it kindly brings Geralt back to shore until he can kneel in the sand, water up to his chest, before retreating back into the depths of its waters with one last teasing touch to his loose and slick hole.

Geralt clenches his ass as much as possible, not willing to risk the chance that any eggs will ~~leave him~~ come out before they’re ready.

He’s able to pull himself up the sand until only his feet remain in the water, flop onto his back, and closes his heavy eyes.

\--

“Geralt!”

Geralt’s eyes fly open and he groans at the sun shining directly into his eyes. A shadow blocks the light and suddenly he’s looking up at Jaskier’s face, eyes frantic and checking him over for any injuries.

“Geralt are you okay? What happened? You didn’t come back, and I got worried. You don’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. Did you kill the thing? How did-”

Jaskier’s gaze falls on Geralt’s stomach, on the bulge of his—fuck, _pregnant_ body.

“Geralt. Tell me this much, at least. Are you, or will you be, okay?”

Geralt clears his throat.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just go back to the inn, Jaskier.”

“Like hell! If you want me to go back, you’ll have to come with me. And I have a feeling you either don’t want to, or literally can’t, get up.”

Geralt sighs and closes his eyes. He can feel the heat run up his neck, to his face, and knows he won’t be able to stand the horrified look Jaskier will give him when he says-

“The creature was in mating season. It was trying to find a suitable person to carry and incubate its eggs for 24 hours until they’ll be laid and ready to spawn.”

“…And you volunteered, gods Geralt you just insist on having that fucking martyr complex. It could have killed you!” Jaskier sighs. “Is it really a good idea to let a whole ‘nother batch of these things go?

Geralt opens his eyes in confusion, and Jaskier looks more exasperated than disgusted. “If part of a generation is eliminated, I have no idea how it’ll effect the ecosystem here. Better to just tell the people to stay away from the water for at least a week this time every year, than kill the creatures—and there’s no way I could get them all, anyway—and risk fucking over the environment.”

Jaskier plops down from his knees to his ass, regardless of how his breeches are going to be coated in sand. “Well, then. 24 hours you said? How much longer have you got?”

Anger—irrational, he knows, but anger nonetheless—spreads like a wildfire through Geralt’s chest. “How are you so fucking calm?” he growls. “I let a monster put its eggs and cum up my fucking ass, and you just ask how much longer? How are you not disgusted? How do I not smell even a drop of horror or fear from you?”

Jaskier blinks in surprise. “Geralt, if you think this is the thing that makes me leave you, you are sorely mistaken. Your logic is sound. I agree that the eggs should live. You may not have killed the creature, but we can be sure it won’t be killing anyone else. And if the villagers are stupid enough to ignore your warnings and still get killed next year, then they kind of deserve it.”

Geralt sighs and closes his eyes. He can’t fucking deal with this right now

“Stay or go, whatever. I can’t stop you.” He just wants to go back to sleep until the eggs are ready to hatch. A hand drifts to his stomach, and he can just barely feel the definition of individual orbs.

Its surprisingly calming. He’s never carried a creature’s spawn before, and some guilty part of him, deep down, desperately hopes this won’t be the last time.

“Does it hurt?”

Geralt twitches. He was so sure Jaskier would leave, that him staying didn’t even register.

“Uh, no. Just feels weird. And before you ask, the creature didn’t hurt me either. What time is it now?”

“A couple hours before noon”

Geralt hums and does the quick math in his head.

“I’d say around 13 hours to go.”

Jaskier thinks for a moment, looking around.

“Alright, we can get you over to that cove of rocks, should be easy enough. I’ll go get some food, and we can just wait it out.”

Geralt stares at him in wonder. “You're really okay with this. Really.” They’re more demands than questions

Jaskier rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Yes, Geralt, _gods_. Considering the fact that I’ve traveled with you on and off for nearly two decades and loved you for most of it, I’m not going to be leaving you any time soon.”

…

“What did you just say?” Geralt asks breathlessly.

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “I- I’m so sorry Geralt. You weren’t ever supposed to know. _Fuck_.” He sighs. “I love you, Geralt. And it's fine, I know you don’t feel the same way and if I’ve just completely ruined our friendship I understand if-”

“I love you too.” It feels like the words are torn out of Geralt’s chest, but he wouldn’t take them back for anything, because of the awestruck look on Jaskier's face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

Geralt hesitates. “I realized after the djinn. But I think I loved you long before that.”

Jaskier seems to melt, and brings a hand to Geralt’s cheek. He just barely brushes their lips together, and asks softly, “Yeah?”

Geralt doesn’t bother responding, just kisses him, feeling every damn year between them. The days he could have throttled the idiot for getting too close to a fight. The nights he wanted to cry from loneliness after Jaskier left for some court or competition or whatever.

He pours all his love into the kiss, and whines when Jaskier sucks and bites his bottom lip.

Jaskier chuckles and pulls away. “Come on.”

He helps Geralt into the water until he can sort of swim/crawl his way along the beach.

Jaskier grabs his clothes and when Geralt’s gotten settled on some surprisingly comfortable and sun-warmed rocks, he goes back for Geralt’s swords and armor. Then he returns to the inn and brings back a couple plate’s worth of food wrapped in a large cloth, along with a heavy blanket.

The hours pass quickly with Jaskier singing and playing nonsense, his voice lulling Geralt half into mediation.

The sun leaves the sky, and some instinct tells Geralt to return to the water.

As soon as he tries to get up, Jaskier is right there, making the whole process so much easier—like he’s been doing all these years—and holds Geralt’s head above water as he floats half-submerged in the water.

He begins to push, and the eggs come out easily, still slick with the monster’s cum. They hatch not long after emerging, brushing Geralt’s legs with their tiny tentacles, almost as if saying _thank you_ , before disappearing into the depths.

As the last one leaves, Geralt whimpers at the overwhelming emptiness, after so long being so full.

Jaskier seems to know exactly what he needs. He kisses him upside down, and when they’re a little further on shore, kneels within the cradle of Geralt's thighs.

Jaskier cradles his head gently, but the kiss is hot and demanding, urging Geralt to give him control, which he does so happily.

Jaskier pulls away with a wet smack of their lips.

“You want me to fill you, darling? Too empty after being fucked and filled so well?”

Geralt whines high in his throat, nodding.

“Want me to fuck you? Fill you up with my own seed, remind you who you belong to?”

His grip in Great's hair tightens and he shudders, using his legs to force Jaskier closer, their half-hard cocks brushing together.

Jaskier grinds down and thrusts along Geralt’s stomach until they’re both leaking.

He guides his cock to Geralt’s hole, moaning when he feels how wide it still is. “Fuck darling, you're still so fucking loose. Perfect little whore. You’d bend over for any cock that comes along, won’t you?”

Jaskier sinks into Geralt's hot channel in one smooth motion.

(You’d think the water would affect how fast he could thrust, but Jaskier isn’t a mere human, and he isn’t going to let something as mundane as _water_ keep him from fucking _his_ mate into next week)

Jaskier quickly finds an angle and pace that makes Geralt cry out, but he’d like to breed his mate proper.

He pulls out, flips Geralt over to his hands and knees, and continues fucking into him like they never even stopped.

Jaskier’s fingers dig bruises into his hips as he bends over to bite at Geralt skin, claiming his neck as thoroughly as his ass.

Jaskier pulls Geralt’s head back by his hair to bare his throat more, and chuckles when he tightens around his cock.

“Oh you like that? Do you want me to hold you down, fuck you like the perfect bitch you are?”

His remaining hand on Geralt’s hips reaches around and he strokes his cock until he’s coming, only stopping when he’s twitching to get away from the overstimulation.

Jaskier uses both hands to still Geralt’s hips as he fucks his way through a powerful orgasm, relishing in the wet squelch of his spend being forced back out of Geralt’s body.

With one last nip to Geralt’s neck, Jaskier arranges them back on the rocks, holding Geralt in his arms as they fall asleep satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! <3
> 
> link to tumblr post: [here](https://ohwitchermywitcher.tumblr.com/post/632087650934882304/contents-oviposition-breeding-restraints-belly)
> 
> (if yall like this, I might make a sequel where both Jaskier and Geralt get fucked by this same type of creature, set a year or two after this fic)


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